I'm backkkkkkk. Yahooooo. (I'm always weirdly excited for angsty chapters, like, yes, I'm gonna rip your heart out and hand it to you. Look. Look at your bloody organ.)

Anyway, hope y'all are in good health. ❤

I'm working on illustrations for these characters. They're gonna be super simple, but I still wanna replace the embarrassing Bollywood cast I've employed LMAO. I'm done with Tuhin and Tuhina. Once I finish Ishan's, I'm gonna start uploading them here as well as in the first book! Yeehaww!!!

A polar bear going in circles trying to catch its own tail. That's how I feel right now. Not lithe like your everyday mongrel with a tail long enough to reach. I was the big ass white bear, with an almost non-existent tail which I cannot even see, let alone catch it, but have an indomitable urge to bite and chew the life out of it.

Guess neither dogs nor polar bears have such morbid thought processes about their own tails.

But as a polar bear, at least I wouldn't be so cold all the time; the thick layers of fat could have helped.

It was for the good, I told myself. If Yash happened to hear about me being a high school nutjob from someone else, it could've been worse.

"Riyaaz," there was a brief knock at my door and it clicked open.

I peeked from beneath my arm, making no effort to get out of the bed.

"Zara left for school."

I've failed my mother. I've failed Ishan. I've failed Yash. Now I'm failing my sister too.

"What's wrong? You've been like this for two days now. And don't you have college today?"

I hummed in reply.

"Your father is starting to lose it," Zara's mother legit sounded nervous.

"You come home late these days, you don't even talk to Zara properly." She let herself inside and sat at the edge of my bed.

"I'm worried, Riyaaz. Is that girl still hurting you?"

I shook my head. She thought this was still about Nisha.

"I hope Divya is able to cope with it. Such a lovely girl. Who knew she would have such... tastes."

Who knew your stepson has such tastes too?

I cannot deal with this passively casual homophobia right now.

There was a brief pause. And then she was running her fingers through my hair soothingly.

"That night when you called me up, I was really scared for you." She drew in a sharp breath. "But the strangest thing was, I was happy. In your moment of crisis, I don't know if you had realised it, but you did call me "mom" over the phone. I wanted nothing more than you to come home and call me that once more. I wished you would let me help you. Sometimes, I feel so greedy, Riyaaz. I can't help it."

Did I really –?

Fucking oodles and puddles of daft punk polar bears.

I don’t know how to react to that.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to replace your mother, I could never do that. But you can have more than one mother loving you and caring for you, can't you, Riyaaz?"

I heard the bed creak softly as she stood up.

"I hope you feel better. If your mother had lived, it would have hurt us both to see you this way."

Abstract shapes in rainbow hues floated around in the dark void behind my eyelids.

If my mother had lived, I wouldn't be this pathetic mess of human excrement. If my mother had lived, I could have had a normal childhood. If my mother had lived, too many things would have been so different.

If my mother had lived, Zara wouldn't be here with me.

I would rather be a cockroach, scurrying away to the darkest corner in the kitchen, and spreading fatal diseases to my heart's content only to be taken out by a single spray of Lal Hit. No parents, friends or siblings to worry about.

Maybe cockroaches did have other cockroaches dear to them. Regardless, I'd do anything to step on my antennae with all six of my legs right now.

What am I even doing, I groaned holding my head in my hands.

Spiders –

Stop thinking about insects and animals.

No birds, fish, amphibians or reptiles either.

Just stop thinking for a goddamn minute. Get up from the bed. You have to return the magazine to Pramila Ma’am. You have other classes to attend. Convince yourself that you will be able to move now. Just stop thinking that all your problems will be able to solve themselves if you stayed burrowed inside your blanket.

Fuck you. Fuck you and you and you. Fuck everyone.

Each of my legs felt heavier than lead. Not that I have ever lifted any mass of lead, but it must be bloody hard. Everything hurt so much that it was causing me physical pain.

And I was exhausted. I had spent most of the weekend sleeping, yet I was spent. I ducked under the blanket and nudged it to bunch around me as closely as possible.

I simply can't.

Tiny translucent bubbles rose and fell continuously at the corner of my sight.

Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

If you press your ears and concentrate hard enough, sometimes your heartbeats will match the sound of the clock ticking.

"Ranjan! No, you will do no such thing. Leave the boy alone."

"This is my damn house," the door to my room was swung open. "I'll do whatever I see fit."

Father stood at the threshold.

"And I will not have a nineteen year old boy lazing around and refusing to contribute to anything to the household just because I provide him free accommodation and food," he thundered.

With long strides, my father walked over to my side of the bed and grabbed me by the shoulder. A violent shake later, I was sitting up in the bed, my insides still rattling.

I was physically strong. But that was last week. Not today.

"Even she is better at being a parent than you will ever be," my words came out in a hiss.

"You think whoever mollycoddles you is actually helping you? No, the one who enforces discipline in the household is –"

Holy mother of cows, he thinks that's him. Enforcer of discipline.

More like enforcer of utter chaos and terror.

"I fear for Zara," I cut him short in the middle of his self-advertising speech. "I fear you will ruin her just the way you ruined me."

"I," he looked shocked, "Ruined you?"

I said nothing and stared out of the window, warm tears streaming down my face.

"Look at you crying! Have I ever taught you that it is okay for a man to cry? You even speak weirdly these days. All these influences from that damn art college full of those ladies-men and character-less girls – they are ruining you. I can tell, you are friends with those people. Find someone like Shivam – they will make a man out of you. Poor kid, who knows what you've told him, doesn't come around here anymore."

"Good riddance," Zara's mother said from the hall. "I never wanted Zara to grow up around that bratty snotface. At least Divya is far more compassionate than that."

I heard some more shuffling from the hall and Zara's mother once again asked my father to leave me alone and exited the house for work.

Baba looked at me with enough disgust. "I doubt even that girl will stick around a wuss like you. You couldn't even keep one girl under control."

"Thinking you can control others anyway you want," my tongue was thick with saliva. "That is a fantasy world you live in."

"I was not speaking politically"” I could tell he was seething with rage. "Women need to be kept under -"

"If that's how you treated Ma, I'm glad she is dead."

"I took good care of her till the very end. I paid all her medical expenses."

That shouldn't be all there is to taking care of someone.

"Will she return from the dead to pay me back? No."

Why would anyone say something like that? How repulsive can this man be?

"Did she stick around to rear her child? Like... that was her only duty! She leaves everything on my head and embraces sweet, sweet death."

"Shut up! I'm so tired of you and your bullshit, Baba. Just leave me the fuck alone!"

There was a brief moment of silence. When he looked at me, I knew what was coming.

He struck me.

I hope to update more this week!! Meanwhile, take care and stay safe.